letter from australia

[briggie]

Dear Mum & Dad,


I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that
the Army is better than workin' on the farm - tell them to get in bl--dy
quick smart before the jobs are all gone!
I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get
outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all yagotta do
before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No
bl==dy cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack - nothin'!! Ya
haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lotsa hot water
and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo steaks or
possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don't get fed again until noon and by
that time all the city boys are bu----ed because we've been on a 'route
march' - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back
paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep
getting medals for shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a
bl==dy possum's bum and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya like
the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows
before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable
and hit the target - it's a piece of p--s!! You don't even load your own
cartridges they comes in little boxes and ya don't have to steady yourself
against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful
coz they break easy - it's not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack
and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the
muster.


Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the
platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the
Engineers - he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the
shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin'
wet,but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before
word gets around how bl--dy good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Sheila.